


Second Chances

by keefling



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, feelings of worthlessness, self deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15021827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keefling/pseuds/keefling
Summary: If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone.





	Second Chances

Rain fell down in sheets outside the ramshackle lodge.  Molly could barely see ten feet in front of his face when he swung the door open, tugging his winter cloak tightly around his shoulders.  He trudged down the singular dirt path that bisected the village, cursing as the wind slung rain into his eyes.  Anger seized his heart when he saw the outline of the only man stupid enough to be standing in a field as thunder shook the earth and lightning seared the sky. 

“Caleb!” he shouted over the sound of heavy rain that pummeled the earth.  Molly sprinted to Caleb’s side, each footfall kicking up water above the cuffs of his boots.  Caleb stood still with his face turned towards the sky. 

“You aren’t going to get any wetter out here,” Molly said.  Caleb turned his head and with hollow eyes, stared straight through Molly into some distant plane. 

“Go back inside, Mollymauk,” Caleb said.  A streak of lightning struck close by, illuminating the fresh cut on Caleb’s face in sickly purple-gray. 

“I plan on doing just that,” Molly snarled.  “And you’re coming with me.” He grabbed Caleb firmly by the hand to wrench him from his spot and steer him back towards the lodge.  Caleb’s fingers were cold in a way that no living person’s skin should feel, as if the coldness was coming from within. 

Molly dragged Caleb past the nearly empty common room where the party would have been gathered if they had not all fallen ill on the journey—save for Fjord and Yasha, who sat by the crackling fireplace, sipping their drinks in silence. 

Molly did not let go of Caleb’s hand until they were behind the closed door of Molly’s room.  He threw his cloak in a heap on the floor and began tugging off Caleb’s coat, surprised that, besides offering no help in peeling the heavy thing apart from his blood-soaked shirt, Caleb did not put up a fight. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Caleb demanded, but there was no power behind his voice.  He sounded just as small as he looked, shrunken and frail and dripping bloody rainwater on Molly’s floor. 

“You’re a bright man.  Why don’t you tell me?”  Molly stepped back and leered at Caleb.  His words dripped with ichor that he wished he could swallow. 

“This is about yesterday’s….incident,” Caleb said, his tone flat and emotionless.  “You are still angry with me.”

The night prior, the group had camped out under a thin canopy of trees that had done little to keep them dry from the torrential rain that soaked them all to the bone.  While the others had slept, Caleb had taken second watch alone.  He had later revealed that he could not bear to wake Nott and make her sit out in the rain after such a harrowing journey.  Molly had woken to the sound of panicked voices just in time to see Fjord unleash an eldritch blast and hear the familiar yelping of gnolls as they scattered into the darkness. 

Molly’s brain had been slow to catch up to his feet as he ran, falling to his knees before a bloody Caleb on the ground.  Jester had been at his side in an instant.  Her last healing spell had barely been enough to stop the heavy bleeding.  Claw marks had remained red and angry through the jagged edges of Caleb’s torn shirt. 

The desperation in Caleb’s eyes had begged for forgiveness.  It had made Molly so nauseous with quiet rage that he could not look at the man until he had found him moments earlier, freezing to death in the rain while the others slept off their coughs and fevers. 

Molly shook his head, tearing himself from the memory that had replayed in his mind’s eye at least a dozen times. 

“You could have been killed,” Molly seethed.  He was breathing hard through his nose, digging his nail into his palms.  “You could have woken any of us.  If Jester hadn’t the energy to heal you, you would’ve bled out in the fucking road.” 

“Yes, and you all would have been better off if I had,” Caleb snapped, too quickly for it not to have been a preconceived sentiment. 

Molly felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.  He had been looking for a reaction, a sign that Caleb was feeling anything at all, and the satisfaction he felt made him sick to his stomach. 

The slash across the bridge of Caleb’s nose thinned when he furrowed his brow into a piercing glare.  “I know what I did, and I know that the group suffered for it.  Everyone is ill now, Mollymauk.  Jester used her last spell on me and has not regained her strength.  It is because of me that she is unable to heal herself, or Nott, or anyone else.  I have put you all in danger many times.  I fucked up.  That is what I do.” 

“And I suppose all that can be fixed by freezing yourself to death in the rain!” Molly cried out loud, throwing his open palms in the air. 

“You are overthinking this.  I just needed a moment alone,” Caleb said. 

“You just need to use your damn head!” Molly shouted even louder.  He knew that he should back off but he continued pushing as his frustration boiled over.  “You hold yourself to impossible standards and beat yourself up when you fail to meet them.  You keep saying you want to be useful and protect us, but everything you’ve said and done in the past twenty-four hours was quite the contrary.  We made a decision, together, to push through the storm.  Throwing yourself headfirst into danger couldn’t have done a damn thing about the weather!” 

“Ah, you are so wise, Mollymauk,” Caleb sneered, followed by airy, hollow laughter.  Life had returned to his eyes, but it smoldered and writhed in pain and clawed at Molly’s heart.  “Here you are, feeding me your wisdom while I foolishly thought you only brought me here to reprimand me.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  You want someone to lay down your faults and scold you for them, so you can wallow in self-pity!”  Molly’s stomach bottomed out before the last word had left his lips.  He wanted to cut out his own damn tongue to stop the foul words from pouring out of his mouth. 

He watched helplessly as Caleb’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slack.  Molly waited, he prayed for a rebuttal, but Caleb looked like he had fight slapped out of him.  Caleb dropped his gaze to the floor, scrunched up his face while he shoulders began to shake.  Fuck, Molly had done it, had made Caleb cry.  He had wanted Caleb to know just how bad he had been hurting, but not like this. 

“I’m sorry,” Molly said.  “I didn’t mean—Caleb, I’m so sorry.”  He extended his arm out to Caleb, reached into his space, prepared for Caleb to either push him away or bolt for the door, but Caleb did neither. 

Caleb stepped forward and dropped his head on Molly’s shoulder.  Cold water dripped down Molly’s back. 

“Caleb, I…” Molly’s voice trembled as he forced back his own tears, speaking in a hoarse whisper, “How much longer are you going to do this to yourself?” 

Caleb fisted his hands in the back of Molly’s shirt and held on tight.  He took a deep, shaky breath.  “Until I can make things right.” 

“Oh, darling.  Punishing yourself isn’t going to make up for your mistakes.”  Molly cradled the back of Caleb’s head, running his fingers through the knotted mess of wet hair. 

“I know.  I’m sorry,” Caleb sobbed.  “I’m sorry, Mollymauk.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.” 

Molly was careful to keep their chests from bumping to avoid agitating Caleb’s wounds when he pulled Caleb into a loose hug. 

“Shh,” Molly whispered into Caleb’s ear.  “It’s going to be alright.” 

“How can I fix this?  Please, I’ll do anything.” 

“You can start by letting me take care of you.”  Molly kissed Caleb’s cheek before gently pushing on his shoulders.  “Let’s get you out of these bloody clothes so I can have a look at your chest.” 

Caleb blushed slightly at Molly’s phrasing.  He let Molly lead him to the bed where he sat down. 

“Off,” urged Molly, lifting up the hem of the ruined shirt and slowly pulling it over Caleb’s head.  The rain had dissolved enough dried blood that the garment came off painlessly, and they let out simultaneous sighs of relief. 

Molly frowned while he looked at the three ugly gashes across Caleb’s bare chest.  

Caleb flushed pink from the attention.  It was endearing, and Caleb was terribly handsome, but Molly chased those thoughts from his mind.  Another time, maybe. 

“I have to clean these up,” Molly muttered and began rummaging through his things in search for his makeshift med kit.  “Bear with me, dear.  This is going to sting.” He soaked a square of gauze in hard liquor and began dabbing at Caleb’s scars.  Caleb sucked in a breath and hissed out through his teeth as the potent alcohol came into contact with his raw wounds. 

“Sorry,” Molly apologized, pressing harder to dislodge a piece of dirt.  “Consider this your punishment, yeah?” 

“I will accept it,” Caleb said.  He chuckled, weakly but earnestly.  Molly felt himself smiling; Caleb was joking again.  Gods, Mollys was afraid that he had broken him. 

When Caleb was disinfected to Molly’s satisfaction, Molly kneeled and began bandaging Caleb’s chest.  Caleb held the end of the gauze in place while Molly passed the roll of bandages from one hand to the other until the lesions were covered.  Molly ripped the end of the bandage off the roll with his teeth, sat back on his heels and scrutinized his work.  “I’m no cleric, but it’ll have to do,” he said.  “How does it feel? Too tight?” 

“No, it’s good,” Caleb answered.  He poked curiously at his chest and winced in pain. 

Molly snorted.  “Stop that,” he said, swatting Caleb’s hand away.  “You might have some permanent scarring, but this’ll keep it from getting infected until Jester gets her strength back.” 

Guilt flashed across Caleb’s face for a moment, thinking of Jester, currently bedridden with a terrible cough. 

“It’ll be alright,” Molly assured him, taking Caleb’s hand and squeezing it.  “No more worrying, okay?” 

“You know I cannot do that,” Caleb sighed.  He cupped Molly’s face in his hands and it was Molly’s turn to blush.  He thought, guiltily, about how handsome Caleb would look when the cut on his face healed into a faint scar, unnoticeable from far away.  It would be something only someone who knew that it was there would look for. 

“I know,” Molly said, still seated between Caleb’s knees.  “But I’m going to keep saying it anyway.” 

 

“That is fine, as long as I can have you like this more often,” teased Caleb with a sly grin.  He pressed his forehead to Molly’s and traced his pointed ear with the tip of his finger.  Molly shivered; he could so easily lose himself in Caleb’s touch, especially after the cocktail of emotions and adrenaline he had gotten from quarreling. 

“You don’t need to injure yourself to get me on my knees, darling,” Molly purred.  “It might actually work out better for you if you stayed intact.” Molly gave Caleb an pronounced wink and hauled himself to his feet, using Caleb’s knees as leverage.  Caleb followed him with his eyes.  “Come on, you need to rest.  Get those wet trousers off and get into bed.” 

Caleb blinked a few times.  “Here?”

“Yes, here,” Molly said, pulling back the sheets and patting the mattress.  “It’ll be a couple hours at least before Fjord comes to bed and kicks one of us out.” 

Molly kindly looked away as Caleb peeled the rest of his clothes off.  Caleb groaned when he lied back, the bandages rubbing uncomfortably against his chest. 

“I am sorry, Molly,” Caleb spoke to the ceiling. 

“I know,” Molly said.  “And I’m sorry for the things I said to you.” 

“Even though I deserved it.”

Molly reached down to tuck Caleb in.  “None of that, now.  Warm enough?” 

“ _ Ja, _ ” replied Caleb, snuggling into the blankets. 

Molly undressed, flopped down on the other bed and curled up on his side.  He was content to watch the rise and fall of Caleb’s chest in the small room’s dim light, less than three feet away. 

“I really mean it,” Caleb insisted.  “I want to do better—I want to  _ be _ better, and to stop fucking everything up, and putting you all in danger, and—”

“Shh, slow down,” Molly cut him off to prevent him from slipping into self-deprecation.  “You had it at ‘do better.’” 

Caleb chuckled.  “Thank you, Mollymauk.  When I get like this, sometimes, I….it helps to have someone pull me out of it.” 

“I know a thing or two about feeling lost and worthless,” Molly said.  “You can’t make it through this life on your own.  Fear will consume you if you let it, Caleb.  Please, let me—let  _ us _ in.  Let us help you.” 

“I will try,” Caleb said, his voice fading as he surrendered to sleep.  “It will not be easy for me, but….I promise, I will try.” 

Molly closed his eyes and tried to match Caleb’s even breathing.  He hoped to the gods that Caleb would keep his promise.  Contrary to Caleb’s apprehension about disclosing his past, the more Molly learned about the wizard, the more he wanted Caleb under his skin.  It was easy to wax poetic about the things Molly would do for Caleb, but until Caleb learned to take care of himself, Molly knew that he must keep the man at an arm’s length—far enough to let him grow,, but close enough to reach when Caleb needed help. 

He fell asleep to the quiet sound of thunder receding in the distance.  If Fjord had peered into the room later that night and left them to their peaceful slumber, Molly did not notice. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title and tagline are from Gregory Alan Isakov's "Second Chances," which makes me think of these two whenever I hear it.


End file.
